


Habits

by queen_sinnamon



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Job, Drug Use, Hurt, M/M, Past Relationship(s), one-night stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_sinnamon/pseuds/queen_sinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were both out of it, bellies full of alcohol, bodies smelling of smoke, but neither of them cares. At least, Wonshik doesn’t. He only cares about one thing now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I was just trying to have a good time and then Tove Lo attacked me with a prompt and this happened. Well...hmm...enjoy?

The kiss is hard and bruising, sloppy, as they stumble into Wonshik’s apartment, legs tangling together in their eagerness.

They are both out of it, bellies full of alcohol, bodies smelling of smoke, but neither of them cares. At least, Wonshik doesn’t. He only cares about one thing now.

He manages to steer them to his bedroom before he is pushed onto the mattress, and the other kneels between his legs, dusky hands fumbling with the button of his pants, caressing his clothed thighs. Wonshik’s mind, syrupy slow from the haze, wonders weakly why the hands on him are too dark, featherlight and clumsy, when he remembers smaller hands, milky white and delicate-looking but heavy and demanding as they part his legs.

The thought disappears as his pants do, hard cock curving up to his stomach only to disappear between kiss-swollen lips, pulling a moan out from him. So red, the man’s mouth--Wonshik can’t even remember his name--small and tight, and he chokes when Wonshik bucks up. He wants-- no, he needs more, shallow thrusts incomparable to deep swallows around soft pink lips, but the man couldn’t. He tries so hard to make up for it, tactile tongue stroking up and around his length, diving into the slit, before he sucks hard, and Wonshik pulls him off, panting.

“Wanna fuck…” he mumbles almost unintelligibly, and the man hums, standing to peel off painfully tight pants. Legs the color of warm latte, long and slender, lacking the tight sinews Wonshik loved feeling with his palms, salty sweet cock heavy on his tongue.

Wonshik expects the stranger to manhandle him to his hands and knees, fuck him brutally until he’s screaming into the mattress, the way Wonshik likes it. Have him spread open and gasping with every hard thrust.

Instead the man climbs on Wonshik’s lap, trapping his throbbing cock between their bodies, tilting his face up for a kiss as he guides Wonshik’s cock into his hole, an easy slide as he was already slick and loose. He had been prepared even before they met at the club, Wonshik realizes, as he had been himself.

“Baby, you’re so big, so good,” the man whimpers before licking into Wonshik’s mouth, tasting bitter and acidic as a pill melted on their tongues. Another hit to take them high, higher than they already were, exactly what Wonshik needs.

Hips rolling languidly, up and down, and Wonshik embraces a body too small in his arms, bites and licks at shoulders too narrow for his liking.

The man’s moans are high and keening, demanding Wonshik to fuck him harder and faster, and he obliges, hips snapping up to meet his downward strokes, even as his ears yearn for deep growls and throaty grunts.

“Oh yes, oh god, please…” the man gasps, and Wonshik’s heart aches as those words echo in his head, in his own voice, when it was he who was being filled.

He thrusts harder, desperately drowning his own thoughts under the lewd sounds and praises spilling from the man’s mouth, losing himself to the clouds in his head and the tight heat building in the pit of his stomach.

Then the man stills, mouth open in a silent scream as he spilled his seed on Wonshik’s torso, hot flesh fluttering around Wonshik’s cock and milking the orgasm out of him. “Fuck, Hon--” Wonshik catches himself and bites the flesh between the man’s neck and shoulder, silencing his cries into groans. The man doesn’t notice. He's too far gone. Wonshik’s eyes roll back from the intensity of his orgasm as he emptied himself into the other man.

Panting, they collapse on the bed, filthy and sticky but the man had already passed out, pretty face at peace as his breathing slowly evens out. From the high or the sex or both, Wonshik doesn’t know, doesn’t care.

He lies there, turning away from the man to his bedside table to stare at the rectangle of dust from where a photo frame had been displaced. Hating himself, the emptiness caving his chest in. Even dazed, he knew that when he wakes up hours later, he’d do it all over again.

Get wasted and come home with another complete stranger, because it’s only when he’s drunk and high and fucking someone else that he can keep Hongbin from his mind. Even then, sometimes he still can’t.

He doesn't. He never does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥  
> If you enjoyed, liked, or loved this story, please let me know by leaving a comment, kudos, or a little gift to me through [here](http://paypal.me/ChaJungPiggybank).
> 
> I'm not requiring you to do any of that, it's completely up to you. I would just be very thankful for any and all kinds of feedback.
> 
> Have a nice day! ♥


End file.
